Gemotions

"Are you even listening, Sarah?" Her brother, Michael, snapped, kicking a loose stone across the cracked patio. She hadn't heard a word he said, her gaze fixed on the peeling paint of the back door. Her limbs felt heavy, and her eyelids felt like lead.

The old house felt hollow, echoing with a silence that seemed to amplify her internal state. She slowly sank into a rusty garden chair, feeling like a deflated balloon. The summer breeze, usually a welcome sensation, felt like a cold draft.

Later, she sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak doing little to soothe the tightness in her chest. She simply stared at the horizon, watching the colors of the sunset bleed across the sky, feeling as though she was slowly fading along with them.